La Belle Dame Sans Merci
by MalenaV
Summary: "When I was young, I met a girl. She was beautiful." Based on a poem of the same name by John Keats.


**A/N:** _Another one based on a poem! It's a little abstract and the events do not directly coincide with the actual meaning of the poem, but Keats always said that there is no definite meaning to any poem, so interpret it as you will! If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! I shall answer any question posed completely and thoroughly._

_I am not the creative behind Naruto or the poem this little one-shot is based on._

_Enjoy and review!_

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O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,_

_Alone and palely loitering?_

_The sedge has withered from the lake,_

_And no birds sing._

The morning air was heavy with gloom the same shade of gray as the sky. The ever-green hills were robbed of their color much like the sky of the sun. A lone traveler walked with great caution, afraid to disturb the echoing silence. The ground was moist and receptive and the traveler's sandals kicked up the dirt beneath him; it was the only proof of his existence.

Despite the weighty air and cloudy skies, the landscape held an eerie calmness about itself. The lake was stagnant and reflected the lax sky above it. It did not shimmer and shine like it would on a brighter day, but was just as beautiful. The trees were empty and had long since shed themselves of the foliage that normally adorned them. Nests were empty and so robbed the traveler's ears of sound. The hills were bare and the world, silent. The lone traveler struggled to breathe.

He did not hear a thing, but rather noticed a lone figure, like himself, on a hillside in the distance. It seemed as though the figure was a long time resident of the pale mountains as he was colored much like they were. Amidst the gray-green grass, he stood out. A breeze the traveler was not aware of made the lone figure's white shirt billow about him in different directions, unsure of where to go much like the man himself. The traveler grew closer and closer until the figure became a man as lost as the wind seemed to be. He seemed to be almost a part of the landscape with his feet unmoving as they were. Several lengthy moments passed the two by and by then, the traveler had deduced who this man was: he was a fighter, a protector of his nation and its leader. His profile suggested nobility and the crest he so proudly wore on his shirt collar affirmed that assumption. His wrist slumped over the hilt of his sheathed sword which hung precariously at his hip as he stood still as a statue. His hair was unruly, black, and jagged. His faced, while free of scars, looked just as worn. His eyes looked tired. He looked almost dead. And so, unable to abate his curiosity, the traveler posed a question.

"What brings you here, sir?"

There was no reply.

"You are not a traveler like myself from what I can tell. There is no reason for you to be here; no quarrels or disputes. It's the middle of winter and there are no villages complaining of petty theft and bandits. I've not seen anyone like yourself for days."

Still, no reaction.

"Are you looking for your team?"

The man in question blinked, but that could have easily been a random happenstance. The traveler persisted.

" Are they looking for you?"

The last question warranted the man on the hillside to turn his head and face the traveler in a sort of silent response.

_O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,_

_So haggard and so woe-begone?_

_The squirrel's granary is full,_

_And the harvest's done._

"What is wrong my good sir? You linger where no other living thing is bothered to do so."

As before, there was no response.

"Autumn has long since passed and we are now in the dead of winter. The animals have stowed themselves away with their food and the farmers and families have finished the harvest and are the same as the squirrels and bears."

The man remained silent but offered a heavy gaze. The traveler felt it weigh down upon him and struggled to continue and hoped that licking his lips would give him courage to speak.

_I see a lily on thy brow,_

_With anguish moist and fever-dew,_

_And on thy cheeks a fading rose_

_Fast withereth too._

"You seem ill, sir. Near death it seems."

Pursing lips was the response.

"You look feverish even in this chilled air; tired as well. You'd be better off resting in bed with a cool cloth, sir."

The man closed his eyes in agreement and anguish.

"The color has gone from you face, sir. You are deathly pale and surely in need of a doctor."

The man on the hillside scoffed lightly and tossed his head back, letting a strangled cry free from his throat. He looked to the sky and fell silent for a moment. He blinked as he shuffled through all the memories and instances that brought him to where he stood then and bit another cry back. He looked down from the sky and down at the traveler and spoke at last.

_I met a lady in the meads,_

_Full beautiful – a faery's child,_

_Her hair was long, her foot was light,_

_And her eyes were wild._

"When I was young, I met a girl."

The traveler stood shocked, alarmed at the fact the man seemed to have enough energy to speak with such a strong voice.

"She was beautiful."

The man sighed in remembrance.

"Long pink hair, wild, wild, green eyes…she was like a fairy. Dancing to and fro, unaware of her beguiling nature."

The man smiled.

"Her name was Sakura."

_I made a garland for her head,_

_And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;_

_She looked at me as she did love,_

_And made sweet moan._

"We grew older, the two of us. Apart."

The man turned away and looked down at the stagnant lake.

"I left that is, she offered to follow and I refused. She refused me in her own way and I returned eventually. She loved me still. And I loved her. I doted on her, showered her with gifts and she smiled in return."

_I set her on my pacing steed,_

_And nothing else saw all day long,_

_For sidelong would she bend, and sing_

_A faery's song._

"I took her in to live with me and never let her go. We saw only each other and relished in the sensation of one another's company. I thought it cruel of me sometimes but she never seemed to protest. She would lean in my ear and whisper her devotion and I knew she loved me."

_She found me roots of relish sweet,_

_And honey wild, and manna-dew,_

_And sure in language strange she said -_

_'I love thee true'._

"I thought myself foolish at times, believing that I would not need anything but her. But, ah, she was so good to me. She kept things tidy and myself fed. But I was sure that I did not need any such thing as long as I had her. And it was her way of saying she loved me."

_She took me to her elfin grot,_

_And there she wept and sighed full sore,_

_And there I shut her wild, wild eyes_

_With kisses four._

"We…she was exquisite."

The traveler stood silent then, still staring at the lake and reflected sky. Both were silent and his thoughts were the only betrayal of the atmosphere. Though he said nothing, he remembered fully. He remembered bare legs and swollen lips. Hooded eyes and clawing hands. Tangled legs and sweet whispers. Thrusting hips and throaty moans. She was nervous at first, always nervous. But her glances were coy and he knew the truth. He would kiss her first and she would act shy and slap his shoulder, scolding him for his brassiness. He would smile and say that no one was looking because no one ever was. They were always alone because no one else mattered. And so, his hand would snake up her thigh and grab her. She would gasp and he would smile and tighten his grip. Her protests were always futile as he would always settle her upon the bed in their bedroom, the floor in the kitchen, or the grass in the garden and turn her pushes into pulls. He was never violent, always taking his time in removing her clothes. She was often the impatient one and he would pin her hands above her to slow her down. He would kiss down her neck and settle for a moment between her breasts. They would pucker and she would gasp but he would continue down, releasing her hands as he did. She always pulled on his hair then and would embrace him with her thighs, biting her lips with the building of pressure, ready to explode. He would then thrust and appear in front of her. Her hands continued to pull on his head and he settled it in the crook of her neck, groaning her name repeatedly into her skin until it flushed pink in response. Rhythmic motions set her eyes aflame and tears would fall. He would kiss her eyes and the tears and she would whisper his name like a prayer.

"_Sasuke…"_

_And there she lulled me asleep_

_And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -_

_The latest dream I ever dream'd_

_On the cold hill's side._

"I often had nightmares and she was always there to lull me back asleep. Soon, I had none and knew it was because of her."

A strained smile fought its way to his lips and he sighed in anguish, closing his eyes in pain.

"But I fear she has left me at last."

_I saw pale kings and princes too,_

_Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;_

_They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci_

_Hath thee in thrall!'_

"I had a dream—a nightmare it seems. I immediately knew something was wrong. In it, many men approached me. They were all different: Some were tall, other were not. Some had bushy eyebrows while others had none at all. There were a few with long brown hair and others with short inky black hair. I saw my teacher, my best friend, and my brother.

_I saw their starved lips in the gloam,_

_With horrid warning gaped wide,_

_And I awoke and found me here,_

_On the cold hill's side._

"They were all pale, however, and looked at me with wide eyes in warning. And, to me, they all said the same thing: 'The beautiful woman without mercy has you in thrall.' I laughed at them and walked away believing I would wake up from this nightmare and Sakura would be there to comfort me. I kept walking and walking and the cries of all the men eventually faded into nothing and soon the world followed. I closed my eyes and waited and thought, for a moment, that it was over. But I opened my eyes again and found myself here and have been so ever since."

_And this is why I sojourn here_

_Alone and palely loitering,_

_Though the sedge is withered from the lake,_

_And no birds sing_.

"And that is why I linger here, knowing that there is no one else, though the world has since grown silent, and no birds sing."

The man turned around completely and walked to the top of the hill and stood there for a moment before walking down toward the lake. The traveler stood on the dirt path for a few moments, trying to understand what the man had just told him. Half afraid and wholly curious, the traveler stepped off the path and onto the grassy hillside and understood completely.

He trekked up the hill and disappeared.


End file.
